


like luck

by Khapsized



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khapsized/pseuds/Khapsized
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know we joke about him being a puppy all the time,” Donna says, rapping blood red nails against the white side of her takeaway box. “But I think there’s something a little more vicious underneath there.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	like luck

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt by mockerybird over at the [SAFEWORDS Ficathon](http://sister-wife.livejournal.com/18051.html) hosted by the wonderful sister_wife.

From day one Harvey has been a pariah, the bastard child, the one gypsies would never tell fortunes to for fear of retribution, that he would turn the tables.

He was a dark, small child, with hair past his temples. “He really should have it cut,” Mrs. Hastings said, strapped into her sharp looking suit, first day of second grade.

Watching (Harvey throw himself at a yard bully) and already moving to step in, (blood smearing down over his plump cheeks and onto his pastel colored jumper), “Perhaps he can let it grow a bit longer.”

 

❖❖

 

Pearson Hardman is his baby. Jessica created it out of sweat and love, but the filing rooms, offices, sharp cut carpet—those are all Harvey Specter’s.

“You know better than to come in without knocking,” Harvey says, stick up his ass, hands inside his pockets as he lounges by the window, all debonair and suave and half a bottle of product slicking back his flyaways.

But Mike (little Mike, who is smaller than Harvey, though more lanky) has never respected his boundaries. He’s been smart enough, tack sharp and ready to let Harvey show him the ropes, but he’s never been a pushover—if anything he’s kept Harvey on his toes.

So when he corners Harvey in the filing room, mouth tasting like curry and fingers stained with ink, Harvey exhales.

 

❖❖

 

Mike fits in well at Pearson Hardman, but not in the ways Harvey would expect.

“I know we joke about him being a puppy all the time,” Donna says, rapping blood red nails against the white side of her takeaway box. “But I think there’s something a little more vicious underneath there.”

Harvey, with chopsticks in his fingers eating sloppy chow mien out of a flimsy cardboard box, his seven thousand dollar suit covered with the invisible stains of people he’s crawled over to get where he is this second, is struck silent by a young boy in an Armani knockoff with smudges under his eyes.

 

❖❖

 

Harvey’s always run cold. His fingers are frostbitten before the rest of his body, but it’s not long before his skin follows. He’s used to wearing nothing but suit jacket, shirt, undershirt during the winter and still being freezing, so it doesn’t seem strange when Mike’s hand lands on his lower back, and burns through his clothes.

 

❖❖

 

“Good boy,” Mike says, tone gentle, and it’s such a switch from their everyday routine that Harvey almost laughs.

His cheeks dimple up under the blindfold, drawing it tight across the apples of his face, but then Mike’s hands land on his shoulders out of the darkness, and it’s not just Mike—Harvey can be a good boy, too.

Harvey trusts Mike, has trusted him since day one where Mike spilled ten-thousand-dollars-worth of merchandise on his office floor. So when Mike tips him forward, Harvey noses against him through layers of denim until he hits his zipper.

Unzips. Opens his mouth. 

 

❖❖

 

Ten years ago if someone had told Harvey he would have let Mike tie him up, would have enjoyed all the little marks that didn’t completely heal, he would have told them to fuck off.

Donna knows, of course, “Good morning big pup, good morning little pup.”

But Harvey is pretty sure Jessica knows, too. 

Nothing really changes in the way they interact during the day, because they’ve determined they have busy enough jobs anyway, but Jessica seems to have some inherent talent for unveiling the discreet. She’s made a job of it afterall.

 

❖❖

 

Mike doesn’t really have all the necessary skills for a Dom; his hands shake at inopportune moments, he’s inconsistent with his strength, but he always, always, always listens to Harvey.

So after Mike’s grandma dies, after the funeral, after Hardman is gone and the halls of Pearson Hardman aren’t filled with a stalking, malicious entity, Harvey sits Mike on his couch, and tells him about his family. Well. Tells him about his family seriously, without drugs involved. 

It’s a lot like a serious relationship, and Harvey is terrified.

 

❖❖

 

When Harvey was nineteen, he needed to escape Harvard. He had a steady girlfriend at the time, one who smelled like bubblegum and cinnamon and sweat, something sweet under the smell of her field hockey uniform.

Harvey cheated on her three times. Twice with a boy a year younger than him, with large hands and a sharp, wicked mouth. He used to bite Harvey every time they kissed.

And once with a girl, who loved, loved to tie him up and slide fingers inside him. She was heartbreakingly sweet with her aftercare, feeding him ice chips after a long scene, petting his hair back from a sweat slick forehead.

The point is Harvey doesn’t exactly have a good repertoire of healthy relationships to fall back on. He burns through the good people quickly, falling back on what he knows, and what he knows is something bad and dark and cloying.

But Mike? Mike is diving in freely. He doesn’t have anything to draw back on, has no bad habits to be broken so Harvey is glad he got him first.

And if he’s anything like lucky, he’ll have him last.


End file.
